


Horses, Not Zebras

by grapalicious



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Hypochondria, Other, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapalicious/pseuds/grapalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joly is sick. No, not just sick. He's <i>dying</i>. He's sure of it.</p>
<p>Bossuet and Musichetta assure him that he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horses, Not Zebras

Joly peers at himself in the bathroom mirror and studies his reflection for a good while, frowning as he takes it all in.

He's slightly paler than normal, his eyes are puffy and tired looking. There's a faint sheen of sweat and his hair is sticking up in odd angles. But that's not the worst of it. Oh no, the worst is the bright pink flush smattered right across his cheeks. That's not good at all.

He leaves the bathroom, goes to the living room, and flops down on the couch. Musichetta and Bossuet look on from the kitchen.

"Feeling any better?" asks Musichetta as she stirs a pot on the stove.

"No," moans Joly into a couch cushion. "I think I have scarlet fever."

"You don't have scarlet fever," says Bossuet.

"It's just a cold," Musichetta adds. "I'm making soup."

Bossuet sighs dreamily. "You make the best soup."

Musichetta winks at him. "Don't I know it."

"It might be meningitis," Joly mutters, mostly to himself. Then he raises his voice in horror. "Oh my god, what if it's meningitis?!"

"You're vaccinated for meningitis," Bossuet tells him as he leans against the counter.

"But there are all different kinds of meningitis! I could still have it!"

"But you probably don't have it," Bossuet continues calmly.

But he could. He thinks of his symptoms- flushed with fever, sore throat, feeling as though he could die any second- that could definitely be meningitis, couldn't it? Or scarlet fever.

Joly scrambles for the remote, turning on the tv to find something to distract him from his thoughts. House M.D. is on. Perfect.

"Oh no." Bossuet grabs the remote from him. He settles down next to him on the couch. "We are not watching House. You'll be convinced you have lupus in no time."

Joly gasps. Because _of course. "Lupus."_

"You don't have lupus, love!" Musichetta calls from the kitchen.

But Bossuet and Musichetta don't know that, not for sure. They're not doctors, they haven't done any tests, or labs, or scans.

"What color is my tongue?" Joly sticks his tongue out for Bossuet to examine.

"Red?" 

"Abnormally red? Are there any white spots? Because that could mean scarlet fever."

Bossuet shakes his head. "Normal red. And no spots. You probably just have a cold."

That makes Joly feel a little better, but he still can't shake the feeling that something could be horribly wrong with him and he could be dying as Musichetta comes and hands each of them a bowl of soup before settling down on the couch with her own.

Joly eats as much as he can stomach then sets the rest on the coffee table and tries to focus on the tv. He can't really concentrate though, not when he has lists of symptoms and diseases running through his head.

"Does it look like I have a butterfly rash? A lot of lupus cases present with a butterfly rash."

"Your cheeks are just a little pink, Joly." Musichetta reaches up to feel his forehead with cool fingers. "Probably because you have a slight fever. It's nothing to worry about."

He huffs, because it's _definitely_ worth worrying about, and leans against Bossuet. Then he wraps his arms around Musichetta and pulls her against his chest. He doesn't like to admit it, but he gets clingy when he's not feeling well. "I'm dying," he groans.

"Remember what you told us you learned in your first week of med school?" Musichetta asks softly.

"Don't make balloons out of latex gloves?"

"No." Bossuet pokes him in the ticklish spot on his side. "When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras."

"Horses," Joly breathes, "not zebras."

"That's right."

Joly bites his lip then asks, "Lupus?"

Musichetta lifts her head from against his chest and looks him in the eye. "Zebra," she says firmly.

"Meningitis?"

"Zebra," Musichetta and Bossuet answer as one.

"Scarlet fever?"

"Zebra."

"Zebra," Joly echoes.

He thinks of his symptoms- flushed with fever, sore throat, feeling as though he could die any second. Horses, he thinks, not zebras.

Joly lets out a whine and tugs Musichetta closer.

"What's wrong?" Bossuet whispers in his ear.

Joly miserably replies, "I have a cold."

"Yes. Yes, you do."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I just wanted to write something focusing on my Les Mis ot3. :)


End file.
